


The City Never Looked so Bright

by zanzibar



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Long Distance Relationships, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanzibar/pseuds/zanzibar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They live in two different COUNTRIES thankyouverymuch, and train in two different places, and go from being completely codependent to being completely independent.   </p><p>In which James Neal is happy to be home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The City Never Looked so Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, internet, my loves, I literally wrote this because if I didn't write this I was going to write kidfic. Because have y'all seen [this](http://t.co/s6W9Y64m1I)? This is Paul Martin, delivering season tickets to a tragically adorable child with a bow on her head.
> 
> The problem is this - I cannot figure out how the hell Paul Martin and James Neal acquire a child. Do they adopt? Does James' sister or Paulie's sister get pregnant and can't keep it? Does the stork bring it? Do they find it in Ottawa like a lost puppy and just take it home? If you have ideas - leave them in the comments, because I just can't figure out how to make it somewhat realistic.
> 
> In other news, title ripped from Macklemore, because I love him.

There are a lot of really, really great things about being back in Pittsburgh after a summer away.

The first night he’s home James spends some time staring at the ceiling and restlessly counting all the great things about being back. Originally he counts the Pirates and the Steelers. But the Pirates are in Texas and at the moment he’s pretty dedicated to ignoring the complete existence of the Steelers. But still, it’s fun for these couple of weeks in the Fall when all the Pittsburgh sports fanaticism lines up and produces an entire city that just eats, sleeps and breathes all of their sports together.

And there’s hockey.

And there’s Paul.

Despite what certain people are attached to saying [certain younger sisters for example, specifically] James would not classify himself as a whiner. He does not have, as other people have been known to say [a maternal figure in his life for example, also specifically], a dramatic personality. He just misses his boyfriend. In the summer. When they live in two different COUNTRIES thankyouverymuch, and train in two different places, and go from being completely codependent to being completely independent. And so maybe he mopes, a little, once in a while.

[Though it should be noted that text messages do not count in the independence argument. It’s free, therefore it does not count for or against the argument for independence.]

Unfortunately, in a tragic fluke of scheduling, James is actually back in Pittsburgh for almost 3 days before Paul. This means he wanders despondently through his tragically empty house and wonders if he should buy furniture so it stops echoing or rent it out to someone so that someone actually lives there. After contemplating that and turning on the TV 12 times to see if magically the cable has started working he goes across the street and falls asleep on the couch at Paulie’s because Paulie is a responsible adult who remembers to call the cable company before he gets home and also because Paulie’s couch is not only more comfortable but is actually long enough to sleep on.

On Friday Paul wakes James up with a text message ETA of about 4 in the afternoon and James runs 3 miles on adrenaline and excitement and then goes to work out with the guys who are in town and comes home and parks his car on his side of Paul's garage and makes the bed, hangs up the clothes that have been leaking out of his suitcase for 3 days and goes out to buy the basics at the grocery store so at least they won’t starve.

Friday night is a whirlwind of dinner with the guys and beer and a bar and catching up and as much sex as is humanly possible before Paulie absolutely passes out from his drive and James stares at the ceiling listening to his even breathing and just being so, so happy to be home.

The weekend is full of errands and team stuff and too much stupid busy work-ish type stuff that means that it’s Sunday afternoon post-Steelers debacle before James has the opportunity to just sit and look at Paulie, to soak him in and listen as he putters around the house and puts things away and rearranges the cupboards and does various Paul things until James has to yell at him to stop futzing around like somebody’s grandpa and come sit on the couch.

Which really means “come in the living room so I can ravish you.”

The best part of kissing Paul like this is that he always starts out with all his clothes on. James is far more likely to be slouched on the couch wearing a pair of basketball shorts that originally belonged to one of his brothers and nothing else while the opportunity is available. But in this case Paul is not only wearing shorts AND a tshirt, but he’s also wearing a hat and flipflops. And after being separated for three months, there’s really nothing James likes more than the opportunity to take him apart.

It starts with kissing, because Paulie’s been in Minnesota for long enough that James can hear the midwest in his voice and he wants to taste the vowels, to see if they taste different than 8 months in PA, to see if a summer beard feels different sliding along his skin than a playoff beard does. 

James feels so easy when Paul tilts his head and opens his mouth and James can’t keep from knocking his hat off and cupping his hands against his neck and moaning. But the tables are turned quickly enough when James presses himself closer, sliding his fingers through belt loops and yanking Paulie even closer. 

The great thing about kissing is Paul’s callused hands sliding across the naked skin of his back. It’s an unexpected bonus, to laziness, the slide and skip of Paul’s hands across bare skin, one strong hand cupped behind his head, cradling his skull, one sliding across his shoulders and into the summer strength of his back. 

There’s something unbearably comforting about all of this, about relearning the topology of Paul’s mouth and pulling away from his mouth to relearn his body. Mapping old scars and new scars and summer bulk and all of it still the underlying familiarity of his Paul.

The other bonus to laziness is Paulie’s completely unsurprised face when he tucks a hand in the waistband of James' stolen shorts and finds exactly what he was expecting, nothing. Paulie’s one overly judgemental raised eyebrow makes James giggle, but he isn’t ashamed OK, technically it’s still summer vacation and underwear is optional during summer vacation. And then Paul’s moaning and sinking his teeth into the tanned skin of his neck and James isn’t giggling anymore, because honestly he’s not even sure he’s thinking anymore. Everything dims behind the [hopefully silent] chant of Paulie’s name.

Once Paulie’s hands are in his pants James is suddenly far more interested in skin on skin contact and once he pulls off Paul’s shirt he’s rewarded with acres and acres of white skin and summer freckles and all that recently tshirt covered warmth pressed against his slightly cooler skin.

Turned just this way James can catch the occasional glimpse of them in the mirror hung over the fireplace. The way Paul’s shoulder muscles bunch and slide gracefully as his clever hands fill with James’ soft skin. The contrast of Paul’s pale skin resting against the lingering tan of golf courses and time at the lake is startling in the late afternoon light.

Paul parks a hand in the small of James’ back, thumb rubbing maddening across the hollow just above his waistband, fingers dipping and restless with the elastic of his shorts. James has been hard since the first touch of Paul’s tongue to his, but it wasn’t urgent, it wasn’t maddeningly necessary for his dick to be touched until that one finger, soothing, sliding, like a feather tortuous against his skin, while Paul pulled him closer and closer and kissed him again and again with a single-mindedness that James usually appreciates, except right now, when it has suddenly become urgent that more dicks be involved in this make-out session.

And of course Paulie’s wearing a belt. Because this is some kind of contest, James has 1 article of clothing on. Paul has all of the articles of clothing on. James knows this belt though. Knows it from months of undressing Paulie already, and that allows him to tease a little, letting his knuckles skip across Paulie’s khaki covered dick while James works his shorts open and pushes them toward the floor. And then, James is actually winning the contest, because in spite of starting in a serious deficit he’s now the only person in the room wearing any clothes.

James slides his hands up Paule’s bare chest to thumb at his nipples while Paul dips his hands lower down his back to cup his ass and pull his cotton-covered dick tight against him.

And from there it’s easy to dip his head and open his mouth against Paulie’s neck while he rubs his scratchy chin against James’ bare shoulder, the contrast a rush against his sensitive skin. Easy to push Paul back until he’s sitting on the couch and James can drop to his knees and bury his face in the familiar spicy scent of his skin. And slide his tongue against the familiar taste of Irish Spring and warm, solid skin and something that’s never going to be anything more than Paul. Sweet, gorgeous Paul who James hates to leave and can’t wait to come back to.

Paul can’t stop sliding his fingers through his hair, shorter now than at the end of the season, but just long enough to twist the ends around his fingertips, to add pressure to his skull and the dull edge of pain to remind him how much he wants this. How much he wants to be right here after a summer apart, kneeling between Paulie’s legs, one hand gripping the base of his dick while he wraps his lips tight around the head and listens as Paulie groans above him.

The best thing about Paul after a summer apart his that he can’t stop talking, can't stop saying his name, and James will never tire of the constant refrain of “James” and “Nealer” and the alternating “oh fuck” and “oh my god” and the begging, pleading “please” and the occasional, accidental “baby” which is totally a secret known only to the people in this room, never to be repeated again but almost a guarantee to push him straight over the edge.

He can’t help but push up and kiss him after one too many “oh fuck baby please,” and James is thankfully half kicking his shorts off half trying to crawl completely up and into Paul and their kisses now are definitely trailing to the messy and desperate side far more than sweet and sexy.

They end up laughing because neither of them can decide what they want more, more kissing or more coming and Paul keeps making aborted moves toward James’ dick only to be distracted by his neck or by his sadly neglected nipples or by the intense desire to lick the taste of himself out of James’ mouth.

James comes up with a brilliant move to tip sideways so he’s laying on his back on the couch with Paul between his bent knees, and this, this is perfect [and somewhat shocking that it worked without someone losing an eye] because this means that their dicks are lined up perfectly and James can arch his back up into Paul and Paul can drill down against James and yes, it would be totally awesome if they had enough forethought to stash some lube in the couch cushions. But Paulie’s sensibilities and latent fear of the cleaning lady mean that they keep the lube in the bedside table and the drawer under the drawer that holds the razor blades and the toothbrushes and their shaving kits where it hides under dental floss and empty bottles of shampoo and the Q-tips that never stay in the ziplock bag. Which means couch sex requires far more forethought than basically ever occurs. Which is a shame, because this couch is awesome. 

Luckily James is close enough to the edge, and wound up enough and missed Paul enough that he’s fully willing to accept orgasms on the couch now, followed by a shower and sex later, in their bed, which is also gigantic and comfortable and features conveniently located condoms and lube.

But for now he’s satisfied with pulling Paulie’s mouth closer, and moaning his name when their dicks line up perfectly and their thrusts are timed perfectly and there’s really nothing he could want more in this one moment.

“Close,” Paulie’s voice is raw from moaning, from kissing, from James and his beard scrapes against the soft skin behind his ear and James nods, too far gone to do anything but arch his back harder and press his fingers deeper in the indentations above Paul’s ass that he’s going to lick later, just as soon as he can move his legs again. 

“I want you to come too,” Paul sinks his teeth into James’ earlobe and James nods frantically, wondering desperately how the hell Paul can form complete sentences right now and feeling distantly disappointed that his blowjob abilities haven’t rendered him completely speechless. 

But none of that matters when Paul does some absolutely insane superhuman strength move that pulls James more tightly against his dick and suddenly James is burying his head back against the couch cushions and when the warmth of his orgasm slides between them Paul ducks his head one more time and whispers “Fuck, I love you,” which should not be as hot as it is and should not make James’ dick twitch so quickly that it actually hurts just a little bit.

Paul snags his tshirt from the back of the couch and though James has nothing good to say about tshirts being worn on lazy afternoons before the preseason has even started, he will say this, it’s convenient to have something to clean up the mess, because he really does like this couch.

He absolutely does not perv on Paulie’s ass when he walks halfway down the hall to throw the tshirt in the laundry. He’s just checking out the off-season bulk that Paulie’s added and absently wondering how fucking hot it’s going to be when all of that latent strength is braced above him later tonight driving into him like Paulie wants his name tattooed where no one will ever forget it.

Later when they’re curled on the couch, naked and wrapped in a blanket as protection against the air conditioning, Paul will brush a kiss across his hairline and suggest that they hire a rental company to rent out James’ house. 

“You should live here,” he says, all Minnesota-earnest and so damn perfect James doesn’t ever want to leave this spot, this city, this moment, ever. “I want you to live here,” Paul continues, like he hasn’t noticed James melting into a puddle against him, “with me, for - “

James finally has to smother him with a kiss, saying yes with his tongue and his lips and his hands and then pulling away and watching Paulie’s eyes crinkle with a grin and saying yes out loud. To everything.


End file.
